Morning Amongst the Evergreens
by The Huntress1
Summary: The boy takes the opportunity to question his father's willingness to allow him to stay, yet see another child go. Post-Hush, post GCStreets, pre-DCnU, etc. This fic assumes S. Bradley, Jr. was a ruse, R&R. One-Shot, post-"Respite"


**Disclaimer: I own neither Batman nor his peers or progeny. I am an ardent fan of the pre-DCnU. That said, I have often wondered what Damian's reaction and conclusions would be where Selina's pregnancy and what have you are concerned. I like to imagine that deep down, he wishes things had been different. Such as it is. Do R&R**

"I have an…odd question."

Bruce glanced over the top of his newspaper, taken aback at the boy's tentative tone. They were breakfasting in the wintergarden. Bruce guessed his son's pride was still smarting from the previous evening's dressing-down, yet another difference of opinion, "Yes?"

Damian resisted the urge to fiddle. To this day he'd never grown used to the way his father's eyes bore into him, despite his habit of boring right back. He sighed, "Why…why did you keep me and not her?"

Bruce's brow knitted with surprise, "To whom are you referring?"

He guessed this question could only pertain to two "shes," Cassandra or…he paused, possibly Stephanie. He waited curiously.

"Helena, the little girl," Damian finished, cutting his ham with the final syllable.

Bruce stared, truly caught off guard, "What…have you heard?"

Damian scoffed quietly, "Enough. Just that she's…she was, briefly…she was Selina Kyle's daughter. And, if so, if logic follows…that would make her your daughter as well…"

Bruce took a sharp sip of coffee, for once real coffee, not the liquid caffeine Alfred usually kept in reserve, "The…child's father, was recorded as unknown…given anecdotally as Sam Bradley, Jr."

Damian looked at him squarely, "But we both know that isn't true. Just a convenient truth."

Bruce dabbed at the corners of his mouth with the napkin and laid it upon his half-finished plate, "Selina was—not unjustifiably—afraid for her daughter's welfare. She sought to protect her by whatever means were necessary."

"Including concocting a wild story about fathering a child with the son of a close friend. That is…certainly…interesting."

Bruce sat up straight and wondered just how much the boy knew. True, in Damian's twenty years he'd seen and learned quite a bit. But the general naivety and arrogance of his childhood self had never completely ebbed away. Mellowed certainly but...he was admittedly surprised by the boy's line of questioning. Who'd enlightened him, as it were?

Damian shrugged in that characteristic way of his, creating distance between his emotions and his outward appearance.

Bruce took a deep breath, "I have always respected her choices…notwithstanding her decision to give her daughter up for adoption."

"Your daughter," Damian stated without question.

"That's…never been established."

"I hope you don't expect me to believe you never conducted a paternity test…if I've learnt anything since I was a boy, you're surprisingly an optimist. Or something akin to it."

Bruce curled his eyebrow, "I never…I've never read the results."

Damian nodded, "But the thought…the hope was there."

Bruce grew agitated rather quickly, "What is this about?"

"What I said. I just…I wondered why you…_fought_ for me, in your way. And I know you love her mother, but you don't love mine. At least, not anymore."

Bruce didn't respond right away and Damian didn't waste the pause, "Not that you aren't without cause. I don't love her anymore myself."

Bruce exhaled slightly, "I'd…I've always wished things were…different…for you. It goes without saying that I wonder how a more…_normal_ upbringing would have served you."

Damian nodded sagely, "That's what you gave her, isn't it? When you let Selina give her up?"

Bruce's face reddened, lost for words.

Damian nodded, this time wiping his own mouth, "If it, well, counts for anything. If I'd had the chance to pick this life or what you envisioned for me…I'd remain on this—_our_ path."

Damian stood, just barely able to ignore his father's pale countenance, "I imagine, if Helena'd been given the chance. She'd make the same choice."

Bruce watched his son leave and sat back, slackened in his seat. Damian didn't know; for Selina it'd been a closed adoption, but for him…he'd lied when he'd stated he didn't know the family. He didn't know them personally, but he knew their address, their home, their habits, their routine.

He'd hung in the tree limbs that lined their suburban street and perched, monitoring the girl through binocular lenses. Rain and snow and what have you didn't disturb him.

He'd watched her smile and grow, slowly forgetting the people who'd caressed and loved her as a small child.

Just as slowly, he'd weaned himself off the habit, the need, to see how the child was progressing. He'd destroyed the vial that held the test results and cast aside any paternal longings. Damian was right though; he'd accepted the likelihood of his relationship to his son, but he'd _longed_ for the connection to her…_their_—he managed within the recesses of his mind—daughter.


End file.
